Reykjavik, Iceland

Seat of the great Nordic Concord

Foreign North American delegations will arrive in Iceland via the Reykjavik harbour of Reykjavik Airport, depending on their preferred mode of travel. As they exit their transports the delegates will be treated with a sight that can be found nowhere else in the known regions of Earth, complete preservation. For when nuclear fire rained from the sky in 2077, obliterating all that stood in its path, Iceland was untouched. Everything from the birds soaring high above, to the flowers laying behind lit windows, to the buildings that the delegates are now surrounded by remain just as they were over two centuries ago, something that no other city can boast.

Tonight, high in the sky, aurora borealis, otherwise known as the northern lights, shine brightly in their vivid shades of green and rare streaks of blue, as if nature itself is welcoming the foreigners to the land of fire and ice. The city itself is colorful as well, with many of its Scandinavian-style buildings painted vibrant shades of red and blue, accompanied by smattering of white. Despite the country's name, the streets of Iceland are well-salted to avoid any build-up of snow, despite the delicate flakes that currently fall gracefully from the sky. The weather, however, is still rather chilly, at 29 degrees Fahrenheit and common sense dictates that the delegates will have brought heavy winter clothing for the journey.

As the delegates are escorted to hydrogen-powered limousines (one per delegation) by T-45d clad Endurskoeandi, however, one thing is quite obviously and vividly different from pre-war Reykjavik, the residents. The vast majority of people who walk the star-lit evening streets are outfitted in blandly-colored attire and wear equally bland expressions on their faces. One with mediocre knowledge of the Concord and its practices could identify these near-human beings as Thralls, people without any individuality or identity made to work for there genetic betters. If one were two try to initiate a conversation with their driver, they would soon find that he, as well, is a Thrall and is required to ask any questions within reason with the signature, expressionless monotone that all Thralls possess. Some may see this system as cruel, others as a humane and ultimate form of slavery, but no matter what, all must agree that the system is indeed a well-oiled and effective one.

As delegates are transported through the tidy, cozy streets of Reykjavik, their chauffeur will offer them a glass of chilled wine, vodka, gin and tonic, or any other beverage of that mature, including water and ginger ale. Such drinks can be found, along with glasses, in a small fridge within the limousine and are completely complimentary. After the delegate has either accepted or denied their beverage, the chauffeur will start to point out various local landmarks as they pass them, including the looming, snow-capped mountains of Akrafjall and Esja, the massive Grand Chapel of the Everyman( http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/c/ca/Reykjavik's-church.jpg/200px-Reykjavik's-church.jpg) , which is hosting a Service of Man tonight and is therefore rather busy, and the strange Imagine Peace tower ( http://imaginepeace.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/IPT09.jpg ), whose pure light stretches as far as the eye can see, splitting the surreal northern light with its ray.

Eventually, the limousine will exit the city of Reykjavik, something that may prove an unexpected instance for some, barring those who visited earlier in the year. As the delegate make their way out of the city, vibrant colors and lights quickly turn to white emptiness as the entirely treeless, lightly snow-covered countryside of Iceland rolls by, lit under an odd green light by aurora borealis and standing in stark contrast to the midnight-black sea in the distance and the sharp grey mountains that lay in the opposite direction. The scenery will continue, unchanged, for nearly forty-five minutes as the delegates approach their destination. If they wish, passengers can speak to the chauffeur as he drives and will be engaged in what may very well be a bland but informational conversation. In addition, delegates will be asked if they would like to listen to some radio and, if so, either classical, jazz, or more traditional Scandinavian folk music will be played, all with Icelandic lyrics, of course.

After a long time of either silence, music, or conversation with themselves or the chauffeur, the delegates will see the first switch-up from empty, snow-covered plains that they've seen in nearly an hour, a 12-foot high cement wall, complete with watch towers, spotlights, squads of power armor-clad guards, and even a pair of Jotunn, the giants from the northernmost reaches of Finnmark, which is, in turn, the northernmost European Kingdom within the Nordic Concord. These eleven-foot, heavily muscled, and pale giant mutant humanoids, though despised for their genetic impurity, dutifully guard the single gate in the massive walled, armored in something that draws parallels to white World War II tank armor and wielding massive mace-like weapons. After a short pause an examination of the limousine and both its markings and passengers is made. In addition, delegates are asked to relinquish any weapons excluding unpowered melee weapons, which are assumed to be there for dress purposes.

If everything appears to be satisfactory, the silent armor-clad Thralls will open the gate, allow the limousine through, and quickly close it once more, tightly. Now the delegates are treated to a sight that may look more like another planet than the shattered one they reside on, The Eilífearinn, or Ever-Hearth. For countless feet, the same snow-covered earth dominates the massive area held within the giant cement walls inside, appearing just as the ground on the outside of the walls does. Beneath this snow lies what is, in the Summer, the Korungur's grandiose gardens, though it is now but a snow-covered wasteland. The real majesty to be found within the walls, however, is held by two separate but very close place.

The first, most immediately noticeable is the Eilífearinn, or Ever-Hearth, the massive-yet-beautiful palace of all of the Korungurs for nearly two centuries. The construction, lit-up by various spotlights, is quite possibly one of the largest structures created after the war, standing over 90 feet tall and having the increasingly sizable bulk to match. It's construction, based on the Norwegian stave churches of the middle ages ( http://curiouspresbyterian.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/norwegian-stave-church.jpg ), was carried out over nearly fourth years by thousands of Thralls using only the finest Norwegian timber. The unpainted, dark brown bulk of the Eilífearinn stands out proudly against the northern lights behind it, flying at its highest point the flag of the collective Nordic Concord, along with the flag of Iceland directly below, and the crest of the Korungur- a rearing polar bear- below that, still.

Behind this massive structure lays what appears to be a large fluorescent lake, with similar spotlights being focussed on it as well. The color is an unnatural, light baby blue, a color that, logically, pure water should never be. From said odd lake rises heavy and thick blankets of steam, combating the chill in the air and suggesting a rather high water temperature. ( http://www.itinerarist.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/blue-lagoon-reykjavik.jpg ). If one has either visited Iceland before or has received the rare honor of reading about the island-nation, they will recognize the body of water as the so called 'blue lagoon', the after product of heating water close to a lava vein in the process of producing geothermal energy, the thing that has kept Iceland running for almost three centuries now. The water, however, has proved to be relaxing, theraqeutic, and can even cure various skin disorders, which resulted in it being turned into a spa before the war. After the war, however, the area was privatized by the Korungur and made the sight for the grandiose palace that now lays before you.

Shortly after entering the walled-in palace grounds, delegates will be asked to vacate their limousine and be lead to the mighty front doors of the Eilífearinn. After walking for what may seem to be a long time on a well-maintained stone path, the foreigners will finally ascend the forty steps leading to the oversized doors when yet another Jotunn will open the 18 foot door with what one must only guess is a bow. After stepping inside, removing their boots, and replacing them with fox-fur slippers, the delegates are greeted by the wondrous sight of the combined entry hall, throne room, and banquet room. The interior of the building, like the exterior, is made entirely of unpainted wood and the ceiling stretches up the nearly the height of the building itself, halting at about 80 feet. It is obvious, by the heavy arches and beams along with the flawless construction, that the complex was built to last, most by hand and on the backs of Thralls.

Beneath one's feet, stone floors heated by nearby lava-heated air ventilated through crawl spaces warm the toes of those who stand upon it. Meanwhile, on the walls, piece after piece of ancient tapestries and portraits of Scandinavian and other northern European origins hang to be admired by visitors and residents alike. The room, which is extremely and, arguably, unnecessarily long is dominated by what the palace is named after, a seemingly never-ending hearth, stretching eight feet wide and quite possibly hundreds of feet long. Massive logs and even entire tree trunks fill the fire, though they are dispersed enough that the heat up close is bearable. Flanking each side of this hearth are two equally long series of tables lined up in a row. Set beneath each table is a wooden-and-wool chair of simple make but still relatively comfortable, available for delegates to sit in, if they so wish.

Both of these rows of tables are laden with enough food to feed an army, an extreme courtesy, considering the Concord's current lack of said food. Various Scandinavian dishes, particularly meat and fish of numerous varieties and the like, make up this Sm?rg?sbord (literally, a Scandiavian feast, of sorts), alongside more exotic dishes brought back from Ireland, Hispaniola, and, oddly, Morocco. Various drinks, some in stemmed glasses, some in large tankards, and some in, of course, elaborate bone-and-silver drinking horns accompany the food, along with the proper silverware and china. The most notable dish, however, is the full, thirty-foot tentacle harvested from one of the most ferocious sea-creatures that plague the northeastern Atlantic, slowly rotating on a spit over the hearth. While the dish is relatively common at modern Scandinavian feast, it is certain that some may find it rather interesting. Above it all rests a massive chandelier crafted from whale bones and steel, holding hundreds of small wax candles.

At the far-end of the ridiculous room, at the top of 12 stairs, sits the Korungur in his Icethrone. The throne itself, like everything else in the Ever-Hearth, is a rather large deal. It too is crafted with a base of bleached white whale bones, with two ribs curving into the air and towards each-other and a section of spine making up the high back of the chair. The seat itself, however, is adorned by the luxurious coat of a polar bear, standing out slightly from the yellow-white bone. In this chair, Korungur Kjartan sits, a small child dressed in dark blue finery and holding a Pip-play in his hands. While his age may be surprising or even blasphemous to some delegates, it is understood that while they are in another's abode they should treat them with utmost respect. To ignore this understanding should be made only when one is aware and prepared for the repercussions this will certainly bring.

All around the Korungur stand various members of the Concordian hierarchy, most notably Leikstjóri Jesper Freyrsson, his new wife, the Hungarian Princess Anasztászia Báthory, Gjalkeri Axel Hallvareursson, and Yfirmaeur Aldar Esjarsson. Upon entry, the delegates are greeted by the Leiksjóri, whose voice carries across the room and past the droves of Thrall servants while still retaining a respectable volume.

"Greetings, most honored guests of the Nordic Concord. I would like to introduce to you His Most Honorable and Just Nordic Majesty, Korungur Kjartan, monarch of the Kingdoms of Iceland, Shetland, Faroe, Norway, Finnmark, Denmark, Greenland, and Vinland, collectively known as the Nordic Concord. I myself am Jesper Freyrsson, Leiksjóri of the Nordic Concord, heir apparent, and Svidjar of Hispaniola, at your service. Please, please, if you wish to eat than feel free to do as much. In addition, the lounge which has entrances on either side of the Icethrone, which overlooks the Blue Lagoon, is available for negotiations and the like, along with a number of private chambers."